The Church Steeple and the Soul of a Town
A collaboration between Lewis McLain & AI
When I was young, about 10, as I remember, a family on our street in Farmers Branch invited me to go to Galveston. There was no real highway like I-35 now, so we traveled down narrow Highway 75. No dividers between lanes. I remember that it was dark. I was sitting in the middle of the back seat with three of the family kids, leaning forward watching the bright headlights coming the opposite direction.
I think the crash happened in Center, Texas. All of a sudden, the movie froze like a broken reel in a theater. We had been hit by a car passing another car in our lane. I remember being stunned, getting out of the vehicle, and stumbling a few feet as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. Before long, emergency vehicles were everywhere. A man in the other car in the head-on collision was thrown through the windshield and was dead. The neighbor driving the car I was in was seriously injured when impelled by the steering wheel column.
The next thing I remember is that the mother went with the first responders to the hospital to be with her husband. All of us kids were taken to the home of someone in the community. I can’t remember if we stayed there one night or two. And I don’t know how we got back home to Farmer’s Branch.
What I do remember with perfect clarity is waking up to church bells on Sunday morning. If there were any churches with bells in Farmers Branch, they were too far off for me to hear. This was the first time I heard the wooing of the church bells. Soothing. Friendly. Assuring that everything was going to be okay. LFM
History, Meaning, and the Music of Bells
When you approach a village and see, beyond the trees and rooftops, a slender spire breaking the horizon, you are witnessing more than architecture. The church steeple is the meeting place of heaven and earth — a human hand raised upward, a prayer in timber and stone.
Long before skyscrapers and radio towers, the steeple was the tallest thing people knew.
It marked the center of the community, both geographically and spiritually. From its belfry rang the sounds of life itself — wedding chimes, funeral tolls, and the daily hours that once kept an entire village in rhythm.
To hear the bells was to belong. Their sounds crossed class lines, carried through fog and rain, and reminded each listener that they were part of something enduring. In the stillness of dawn or the hush of dusk, a steeple’s toll was not just a summons to worship, but an assurance that civilization itself still stood watch.
The sight of a steeple from afar was equally moving. For travelers, it meant arrival — a promise of rest, bread, and fellowship. For locals, it was the vertical symbol of continuity: seasons may turn, but the church still stands, calling hearts homeward.
Through centuries of design — Romanesque solidity, Gothic aspiration, and Colonial simplicity — the steeple has remained both beacon and anchor. Its height draws the eyes upward; its bells draw the soul inward. Together they create that rare harmony of architecture and faith where the material world becomes a metaphor for eternity.
The Steeple’s Song
From the tower’s view above the town
I’ve watched your rooftops silvered dawn,
Your children laughing on the lawn,
Your lovers walking as shadows fall,
And I have tolled the hour for all.
I’ve seen your seasons, year by year —
Spring’s first bloom and winter’s tear;
I’ve counted time in steady chime,
And kept your faith when you lost mine.
From up where swallows weave their flight,
I greet the day, I guard the night.
When thunder rolls and sirens cry,
My bells still sing to calm the sky.
I’ve heard your vows beneath my spire,
Your whispered prayers, your heart’s desire.
I’ve marked the birth, the ring, the rest —
Your cradle, union, final guest.
I’ve seen the fields turn gold, then gray,
The mills grow still, the children stray;
Yet still I stand, though years may dim,
A bridge between your world and Him.
For every soul that passes by,
I lift my gaze to where hopes lie.
My cross still gleams through storm and blue —
A finger pointing Godward, true.
So when my bells across the vale
Send echoes soft through hill and dale,
Know this: I ring not just for prayer,
But to remind you — Love is there.
Reflection
Every town needs a church with a steeple — not merely as a relic, but as a reminder.
It is the one structure that insists on looking up.
In its shadow, generations have laughed, wept, married, and buried. Its bells do not ask for perfection; they call for presence. They tell us that civilization, at its best, is not measured by wealth or power, but by how faithfully we lift our eyes and our hearts beyond ourselves.
Three Famous Steeples of the World
St. James’ Church, Louth (England)
Built: 15th–16th centuries
Height: 287 ft
A Gothic marvel rising from a modest market town, it is known for its elegant pinnacles and sheer verticality — evoking both awe and aspiration in the quiet Lincolnshire countryside. Its daring height symbolizes the upward reach of faith within ordinary life, where everyday worshippers once built a tower that nearly touches the clouds.
Temple Saint-Étienne, Mulhouse (France)
Built: 1859–1866
Height: 318 ft
An Alsatian landmark often called the “Cathedral of the Reformed Faith,” it stands as a Protestant interpretation of Gothic grandeur. Its rose windows and tracery recall medieval cathedrals, yet the spirit within it is one of clarity and simplicity — grandeur made humble, devotion expressed in light and stone.
St. Patrick’s Cathedral, New York City (USA)
Built: 1858–1878
Twin Spires: 330 ft
A marble monument to faith amid steel skyscrapers, it was completed when Midtown Manhattan was still young. Its soaring spires now rise among towers of commerce and glass, reminding the modern city that heaven’s reach and human ambition can coexist — that even in the noise of New York, the bells still call souls home.
Let's Talk About It, Lewis! 
You must be logged in to post a comment.